


Versed

by Chriscent



Category: Pitch Black (2000)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26993167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chriscent/pseuds/Chriscent
Summary: Riddick finds himself in some trouble, but trouble follows him.
Comments: 13
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The non-consent is inferred. There are no real description or telling of it. Just in case anyone is squeamish and/or looking for it.

The shelves had been restocked, and neatened, and the automops were out. The low round machines worked back and forth across the floor methodically. Very little in the store was automated, the cost was beyond her limits. But she’d splurged on the automops, just because she hated doing the floors. It was also very time-consuming and she had better things to do with her time.

She was just heading down the stairs to those better things when sirens and flashing lights brought Jea to the front of the shop. It was after dark, after closing, and the street outside was dark and empty, except for the two official vehicles. One had large sides that displayed a bulletin. Another criminal on the loose. Stay indoors, lock up, basically it said hide, cower, and keep quiet. It also showed a grainy picture of the supposed fugitive and listed a few generic crimes.

Jea watched the progression, wincing at the high-pitched siren when it reached the top of its warble. Her eyes rolled as she read the alleged crimes of this newest hunted man. ‘Obstruction of Justice’ was the first and most prominent offense. 

“Justice is dead,” she whispered, her breath fogging the door’s glass for just a moment.

The Sat-Com pinged and with a resigned sigh she made her way behind the counter to stand before the monitor, making sure her ID was showing. Seconds later an alert appeared, the same one from the vehicle. The sirens in the street couldn’t compete with the ear-shattering beeps that came out of the monitor’s speakers. 

Jea covered her ears, but didn’t leave the place before the monitor until the message had started to replay and the light on the side of the screen turned green. 

The Sat-Com was a government installation. It was for her ‘Security and Protection’. At least that’s what everyone had been told when they’d been mandatory in every home, one for each resident over the age of five. Sometimes as often as once a day an official alert came over the Sat-Com. Some news that she couldn’t live without, for her Security and Protection. All the criminals looked suspiciously similar, their alleged crimes vague, nondescript. And then no report was ever given that they were captured, that she was now ‘safe’. 

Jea had work to do. She owned and operated one of the only shops in the city that sold fresh meat and produce. Meat was hard to find on most worlds, especially fresh. And fresh vegetables available in a store were a luxury most people didn’t have. Jea provided both, as well as a large selection of grocery, hardware, household, and even some curio items. Not everyone traded in credits. She had a wide selection for sale, and she single-handedly worked the store. It was a lot of work, but it was her life.

For the next few hours Jea worked in the building’s sub-levels. She cared for a large hydroponic garden, many rows of different fruits and vegetables at different stages of maturity. Then there were the animals to butcher. It was a strange arrangement, but Jea had found the easiest way to provide fresh meat was to bring the livestock in alive and butcher it herself. It made for more work, keeping live animals, but it was worth it. Since she was in the city and didn’t have space to keep the livestock outdoors, there was a portion of the lowest level divided into stalls. She even kept chickens for eggs and bred a few small animals.

Jea couldn’t explain it, even to herself, but she loved butchering animals. Even the first cut, the kill, was satisfying to her. After the hide was cut away in one neat piece and the innards had been removed, many of the organs saved whole, she got to work the flesh. She designed her own tools, liking the heft of a certain knife, or the edge of a specific blade. It was messy work, blood and guts, but she enjoyed all of it. The smell of the fresh meat and blood was soothing to her, as if on a primal level. It made her feel stronger, powerful, superior, as well as some lesser feelings. It turned her on, and made her feel reckless.

It had been in the cooled room of her butcher area that she’d first started playing with her knives. Not knives. They were her tools, her hobby, her passion, and even her companions. It made her smile to think of them so possessively, but it wasn’t wrong either.

As if to prove to herself that she wasn’t psychotic she threw one of the blades. It stuck, quivering, tip buried in the narrow edge of a board she’d put up for the purpose, a dozen meters away.

“No, not crazy.”

She cleaned herself and her area. Her work table drained into a bucket that was near its limit, but she decided to leave it for now. It would keep for one more day in the chilled room.

Her apron and jacket, both smeared with blood, were hung in a sealed locker. They would be clean and sanitized the next time she needed them.

The shop was on the ground level. Several floors below were designated for different purposes. Above were her living quarters.

A sound at the back door reminded Jea of her nightly ritual of benevolence. As the city slept animals crept through the streets looking for sustenance. It was illegal to feed them, but Jea had been approached by a young wildcat one night and had been taking it scraps ever since. The cat was wild and shouldn’t let a human get so close to it. It was amazing how motivating starvation could be.

She opened the back door onto the alley and smiled at the shining eyes that greeted her. “Hey, sweetie. I brought you something.”

The cat didn’t cautiously approach her as it had before, but stayed deep in the shadows behind the dumpster.

Jea was tired and didn’t feel like cajoling the animal out of hiding. “I’ll just leave it here. You better get it before something else does.”

She backed into the door and was closing the door when the cat stepped out. But it didn’t run forward like she expected. Instead it turned its back to her. The way its head was down and its tail twitched made her think it had found something interesting.

All this passed through her head in an instant, none of it stopping her from letting the door slowly close.

What was more interesting than raw scraps from a fresh kill?

The door stopped just before it slammed shut. Jea pressed it open further and watched the animal. It had definitely found something, and had even circled some to continue whatever it was doing to it, eating, licking, it was impossible for her to tell.

Jea suddenly remembered the vehicle and the Sat-Com alert. She’d never once hesitated in opening the back door, not tonight or any other night. 

“Hello?”

The cat looked up, but when she didn’t move or speak again it went back to whatever it was doing.

Jea told herself to close the door and go to bed. It was the smart thing to do, plus there were a dozen other really good reasons to not care what that wildcat had found. Good reasons, many of them having to do with her safety and legal freedom, and her sleep. All of these reasons filled her mind, logical and convincing reasons.

Yet she found herself releasing the lock so she could enter the building if the door closed with her outside. Then she stepped out into the black alley.

The cat didn’t trust her enough to let her approach it, without food. It took off, running a ways down the alley to stare back at her with glowing eyes, eyes that seemed to be hostile now.

There was a light at the back door of her store, but it was in her eyes and made the shadow behind the dumpster darker, impenetrable.

Jea leaned forward, hoping to use her own shadow to allow her to see. She’d discovered that she knew many synonyms for the word idiot, and called herself every one of them.

She was about to tuck tail and run. This was stupid, and probably illegal. The alerts had told her to stay indoors. She doubted there’d be much sympathy for anyone caught not obeying that very sensible order.

Eyes blinked at her from the blackness and she jerked back. She didn’t gasp or run, in fact, it worked to do the exact opposite. She’d been trying to make out the shape, which was actually just determining one shadow from another, and the appearance of the eyes orientated what she was seeing. It was a person, a man.

As quickly as the glint of eyes appeared they disappeared.

Jea looked both ways down the alley. Only the cat was there, now licking one of his paws, patiently waiting for her to leave she presumed. She stepped into the darkness behind the dumpster and crouched beside the fallen man.

Now she could see. He wasn’t just fallen. He was nearly dead. She could smell the after-burn of phaser shots, the guns used by the local law enforcement. Since no civilian was allowed to have firing weapons it was easy to assume this man was the wanted fugitive.

Without considering why Jea checked his pulse and breathing. His injuries were extensive. Without care he would die within a matter of hours, maybe minutes.

Phaser burns didn’t go deep, not like bullets, but they were excruciating, continuing to burn the flesh well after the shot had been fired. The point of the weapon was to immobilize without fatally harming the victim. The shots didn’t bleed, much, the after-burn neatly cauterized the wound. One or two shots would take a man down, most screaming in pain from the second-degree burns. 

Jea counted at least eight shots on the man’s flesh, some overlapping. She didn’t have to be a genius to know that this man wasn’t supposed to be alive. He was near death and that had been the plan. More than a couple shots could, in theory, be fatal, to have a dozen or more… They’d been shooting to kill, and painfully so.

Somewhere, streets over, the alert vehicles passed an opening between buildings that echoed their message down to her for just a second. With wide guilty eyes she looked back and forth down the alley. If she were caught with this man…


	2. Chapter 2

When Jea turned back her knee brushed his side and one of his many wounds. He groaned and his eyes opened, just narrow slits that seemed to reflect the light like the cat’s had done. He shifted, acting as if he were trying to reach for something, but another groan and his eyes closed, his hand dropped last, as if reluctantly.

Jea felt for whatever he’d been reaching for. It was concealed neatly in the material of his pants. She pulled out the blade, obviously homemade. It was an impressive tool and she found herself smiling at it as she held it up to reflect the light.

She stood, with the blade still in her hand. Now what?

Again her common sense had some very reasonable suggestions. Go inside. Call the authorities. Oh, and keep the blade. 

But they had already done this to him. He was as good as dead if she left him or called anyone. She doubted they would dispatch emergency medical personnel to care for the wounds they had inflicted. Not that there was much care that could be done. Keep him clean, keep the rest of him healthy, then it would be up to him to heal.

She found she was staring at the blade as she thought. It was a beautiful tool. Then she suddenly realized she was considering doing those things for him. She could move him, get him cleaned up. She could even treat his wounds and medicate him. It would be a simple matter, in theory.

The more complicated bits would come later. If he was tracked to this point she would be investigated. Government investigations weren’t impartial, nor did they normally end well for the one being investigated, no matter the outcome. And what about when he came around. He wasn’t a cat in the alley that would be gone with the morning light. He was big, much bigger than her, and he could be dangerous. Risking herself, treating him, didn’t ensure that he wouldn’t just rob and kill her when he was able. 

She could restrain him. She could even lock him up. But just the idea sounded wrong to her. Tying him up while he was in this condition felt worse than what had already been done to him. And for what? What could he have done to warrant such treatment? Basically he’d been tortured, was still being tortured as the many burns continued to burn. And she wanted to bind him? Because she was worried about what an unconscious and helpless man would do?

Putting it that way made it sound ridiculous. And it also removed the last of her indecision.

Jea checked the alley again as she went to the back door and stepped inside. A set of controls in the wall made a grinding noise begin, one that echoed dreadfully loud in the narrow alley. But the mechanism was well maintained and quickly finished the loudest portion of her bidding.

Keeping animals in the building was a big job. She was one small-ish woman. To get the animals, and other stock, below the surface she had a lift that would take them down, one at a time. Then, once down, she would wash and disinfect the animal before leading it to the stalls she kept.

The lift rose with a motorized cart on it, one she used to move pallets when they were delivered. It was fitted with a sling to move more unwieldy loads. This load was going to require the sling.

The man woke once as she moved him onto the cart. His hand made it to the spot where the blade had been this time, but she still had the tool. She doubted he’d be able to do much with it even if she gave it back.

She rode the lift down with him and then ran up and locked up before returning to move the cart and him into the showers. It took some figuring. The cart wouldn’t stand a washing, but she couldn’t just put him on the floor, and he was in no condition to walk.

An office chair did the trick. She stripped him as she moved him, letting the sling hold him up so she could assess the damage. It was worse than she’d thought, and she felt both sorry and aggravated that she was taking such a risk and doing so much work for what would eventually be a corpse. He probably wouldn’t survive.

He’d been on his back in the alley, so she’d only seen the burns on his front, most of them to his chest, a couple on his arms. His back had maybe twice the number of burns as the front, and here there was no doubt they were overlapping, some appearing to completely double up. 

It wasn’t like she could put him back in the alley.

She used cold water, hoping to stop any more after-burn and sooth him at the same time. He didn’t wake again, but he did seem to relax some. She couldn’t imagine the amount of pain he was in. Even unconscious he would have to be aware of the trauma.

She used a mild disinfectant, just to sanitize his wounds, and that only because by some miracle he wasn’t bleeding, anywhere.

Using the office chair, she wheeled him to her safe room, a well-kept secret. It was a small room situated behind the insulated walls of the butcher room. The door was accessible only by moving a shelf in a walk-in cooler.

She put a fresh sheet down on the bed, expecting that she’d have to change it regularly if his wounds started to seep. Then she managed to tip him out of the chair without dropping him on the floor.

There was little she could do for him. She didn’t have anything injectable, so she crushed some pain meds, a few vitamins and some antibiotics. Mixed into thinned pudding she managed to spoon feed the concoction to him. The strain that had returned to his face eased after a few minutes and she got the impression he was sleeping now, rather than just unconscious. 

She applied cooling antibacterial ointment to his burns. It took a while. Then she covered him and left him, locking and covering the entrance to the safe room. He could get out, if he tried hard enough. 

Jea retraced her path. She washed the office chair, disinfecting it and wiping down the cart as well as the lift. She put his clothes in the sanitation locker. They were obviously not hers, but the sanitation would remove any traces of him. Back upstairs she checked the front and back before she took a light out to the alley to search for any evidence that the man had been there. She found a pair of goggles, thick and black, just beneath the dumpster.

The wildcat was there, just finishing its meal.

Jea considered what evidence could be there that was unseen, and what she could do about it. She ran down to her butcher room and brought up the full bucket of refuse. Normally she didn’t use the dumpster to dispose of the mess, but special problems called for special solutions. She checked the alley again before she poured a portion out on the ground where she’d found him lying. She poured more on the side of the dumpster and then dumped the rest in the dumpster before locking it.

The cat approached cautiously again, as she had hoped. Any evidence that wasn’t covered by the ‘accidental’ mess would quickly be contaminated by anything drawn to feed on the blood. She would have to clean up the mess eventually, but for now it would serve her purpose. If the man was tracked this far, it would be impossible to tell that he hadn’t gone further.

Jea was exhausted. She should have been in bed hours ago, and now it would only be a few hours before she would have to be up to start her day. And her days were usually long.

Considering that and the secret she had hidden away she figured the best thing would be to stay with him. She would check to see if there was anything else she could do for him, and maybe catch a few hours sleep while she watched over him. Hopefully he would wake enough for her to explain the situation, because once her day started she wouldn’t have time to come down and check on him.

Jea sat in an armchair and watched the man sleep. Once he woke her with his groans and she checked on him. He was hotter. His body would be working to heal itself already, causing his fever to rise. She made another dose of crushed meds and spoon fed it to him. Again he seemed to rest more calmly after.

The next time he woke her it scared her. He yelled and tried to rise. He’d gotten an elbow under himself and swung a leg over the side before she reached his side. 

“Settle, settle,” she whispered, trying to sooth him. When she touched him he jerked beneath her touch. He raised a hand as if to hit her or ward her off. 

Jea gripped his wrist, not trying to force him, and she rubbed across his bare scalp, one of the only places that wasn’t injured. “Settle. You’re safe.”

The eyes that glared up at her were as shiny as they’d been in the darkness of the alley. Enhanced. “Where?”

She tried to ease him back down, still rubbing, hoping to comfort him. “You’re in the sub-level of my store. In a safe room. No one will find you here.”

His eyes closed and after a minute he laid down, letting her situate the sheet over him again. “Why?”

The question came on a sigh, and he didn’t move again.

“I found you behind my store. Those burns tell enough of your story. If I’d have left you or called the authorities you’d be dead now.”

“S’matter to you?”

She understood enough of his mumbled words to answer, “It doesn’t. Not really. I’m in as much trouble as you for helping you, but I couldn’t leave you in the street to die.”

“Stupid.”

Jea smiled. He was calling her stupid for saving his life, for protecting him.

“I need you to know that I have to leave. I have a business to run. I’ve done enough to draw attention, if I close my store they’ll suspect something.”

He didn’t speak and she didn’t know if he’d heard her at all.

“There are supplies here. Water and medicine and food. You are two levels below the surface. This safe room is behind my cooler. You’ll be safe here.”

Again no response.

“I’ll try to check on you this afternoon, but otherwise I won’t be back until nightfall.”

Still no indication that he’d heard her at all. She had to go. It was early, still before dawn, but she had things to do before she opened the store.

Jea pushed open the door and stepped through. She was about to close it, sealing him inside when his head turned and she saw the flash of his eyes.

“Thanks.”

Jea nodded. It wasn’t much, but she figured he didn’t especially like the situation he’d found himself in. She knew she wouldn’t. His injuries made him vulnerable, and completely dependent on her. Add to it that she had saved him, that he should be grateful, would be hard to accept. His size and the concealed blade and the intensity of his punishment told her that he was someone that could take care of himself. The authorities hadn’t shot him up for no reason. He’d been a threat to someone.


	3. Chapter 3

For the next fifteen hours the man in her safe room barely left her mind. She felt distracted all day. Simple tasks were taking longer than usual because of it. It was late afternoon before she realized an important detail of her musings. She wasn’t necessarily considering his situation, the danger he, and she, were in, or his injuries so much as him. 

Of course she was curious about him. Her life was redundant and lonely. The highlight of her day was often cutting up some unfortunate animal and working with her blades. Not an exciting existence. For quite some time any sex she’d had was the solo kind. He was available, and male. Of course, she’d considered that something could happen, something sordid and memorable. It would probably be something she’d regret, but not enough to pass up the opportunity, should it present itself.

Jea found herself smiling. She had undressed him. At the time she hadn’t given his naked body more than the cursory glance, looking at the wounds rather than the whole. But the image was there. She’d been efficient, not blind.

It was an hour after dark and she was contemplating closing for the day. She regretted that she hadn’t gotten to go down and check on him. He could be suffering. Hell, he could be dead.

As if thinking about him had damned her, a group of four government employees entered her store, law enforcement. There were no other customers in the store, thankfully. The last uniform to enter flipped the switch on her ‘Open’ sign, neatly letting her know she was closed for business and that they weren’t here to shop.

“How can I help you officers?”

They fanned out. Two approached her while the other two moved away, their heads turning from side to side for maximum snoopage. Their blue uniforms were identical except for one of the men that approached her had a few more ornaments on his breast. She easily read their names on polished nametags, Officer Whitt and Sergeant Collins. 

“Did you hear the alert last night?” The Sergeant’s gaze was direct, watching her intently, while the officer tried to act nonchalant.

Jea smiled, an overly wide smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “You know I did. Twice actually.”

“The fugitive was in this area of the city. We are questioning the business owners to learn if he was spotted.”

She glanced at the two men that had made their way toward the back, “I think anyone would report it if they saw something.”

The Sergeant’s eyes narrowed, acknowledging that she hadn’t given him a definite answer, but then he hadn’t asked a question.

“While searching it was noted that there is a mess behind your store, one that could get you cited.”

Jea folded her arms and leaned her hip against the counter. As expected the lower ranking officer suddenly paid her more attention, his gaze dropped to her breasts, now forced into prominence and the curve of her hip and waist. She was no whore, but she had certain assets that could distract a man from doing his civic-minded duty.

“I had an accident last night while disposing of some waste. It has been a busy day and I haven’t gotten a chance to clean it up.” She knew her presence in the store would have been noted. It was as good as an alibi. If there were no unexplained absences then it was doubtful she was harboring and caring for a very damaged fugitive.

The Sergeant hadn’t ignored her suggestive pose, but appeared aggravated by it, unlike his partner, who was adjusting his stance yet again. “The alert suggested that all doors should remain locked. You disobeyed that directive?”

She smiled, again with false jubilance, “I guess I did. It was many hours later. I was tired. I did not consider the danger I was in by opening the door.”

“You’re lucky nothing happened. The man we’re after is a killer,” the officer said, obviously forgetting that she was practically a suspect.

Jea’s smile widened as she saw the Sergeant scowl. She’d ended the line of questioning and easily explained away their suspicions, at least for now. “Really? That is scary then.” Her eyes met and held the Sergeant’s gaze for one second before she smiled at his partner again, “I will wait to dispose of anything until after daybreak from now on.”

“That would be best.” He leaned against the counter in an attempt to get closer to her.

The superior officer took a step back, causing his partner to come to attention while looking chastised. “Be sure to alert us if you do see anything suspicious. He is a dangerous man. We will not stop our search until he is found.” This last he said directly to her, being sure to hold her gaze while he said it.

Jea didn’t need an explanation. He wasn’t convinced of her innocence. He didn’t accept that it was mere coincidence that she’d spilled a bucket of blood on the same night a fugitive had avoided capture. Of course their search would have taken them to the alley, and maybe even to her dumpster, and then no further. She’d hoped if there had been traces of him there that the animals attracted to the blood would track it away, leading the search away from her.

The Sergeant went to collect his illegally searching comrades, leaving his partner with her.

Jea went into action. She leaned over the counter, blinking her eyes and pressing her breasts forward. “Officer Whitt, is that man really a killer? I have to go out and bring in stock, sometimes after dark.” She shook her head and lowered her lashes, “I’m afraid I might be too frightened to keep up with my own store.”

The officer looked to where the Sergeant was speaking with the others. “You don’t have to worry, ma’am. We tracked him to the canal. With his injuries it would have been impossible for him to cross.” He smiled, his gaze staring practically straight down. 

Jea pretended to gasp, and watched the Sergeant approach from the corner of her eye.

“You have nothing to fear, ma’am. He’s as good as fish food by now.”

“Whitt!”

The officer jerked back, “Sir.”

Jea smiled, and tried to act innocent. It was difficult. The Sergeant was rightfully angry. If she had feared that she was suspect, she didn’t fear it any longer. So they couldn’t be positive he’d even been there.

“I do thank you. I will work and sleep better now. Thank you again.” She nodded solemnly, all the while fighting a raging case of the giggles. “And I will call if I see anything.”

The Sergeant seemed to sigh, and finally they retreated. Jea followed them to the door and locked up.

It had been a long day, with little to no sleep. She was hungry and more than curious to know how the man had fared in her safe room, but she figured the wisest thing to do would be to stay visible for as long as possible. So she counted out the day’s receipts, stocked shelves and cleaned. Then she made a series of trips to the gardens and cooler, returning each time in just minutes. She didn’t know for sure if they’d be watching her, but it didn’t hurt to appear as boring as possible, and act as if she had nothing to hide.

Officer Whitt had called him a killer. It didn’t surprise her, not really. She figured it was possibly not true at all. Even the officers could have been given false information, just to motivate them to find the man sooner. What had her really wondering though was that they’d called him a killer rather than a murderer. So his victim, or victims, hadn’t been innocent? Why else would they not just call him a murderer? Or maybe it was bigger. Maybe he was some kind of assassin. In that case she could either be collateral damage, killed to cover his tracks, or she could be completely safe. Without reason to kill her, he wouldn’t bother.

The scenarios gave her something to think about while she worked.


	4. Chapter 4

Finally, a full two hours after she’d officially closed the store she made her way to the safe room. The sight that greeted her added to her guilt for leaving him alone the entire day. He was sprawled and sweating, the sheet damp with his sweat and soiled from the oozing wounds and the medicine she’d applied. 

Jea set down the things she had, a snack and his folded clothes, and rushed to him. Any thoughts about him being a killer or whatever fled in the face of his suffering. And he was burning up. Damn.

She bathed him in the bed, running cool water over the many burns. He didn’t wake, but she almost heard him sigh. Then she changed his sheets, carefully rolling him onto fresh linen. More pills crushed, this time she stirred them into a broth to spoon feed him.

He woke just after she began.

“F’shit,” he mumbled after swallowing just the second spoonful.

Jea smiled, “Yeah, but it’s good for you.”

He turned away from the next offered bite.

She waited, kneeling beside the bed. He didn’t move or speak again and she thought he may have fallen asleep. She moved the pillow that had slipped when he turned. If his head wasn’t propped he could choke when she fed him.

He pressed his head back, thwarting her from propping him up.

Jea set the broth aside and waited. Still nothing from him.

“I am going to feed this to you. I understand it isn’t something you would like. Hell, no one would like being so laid up they couldn’t feed themselves. But you need to eat. Now I can spoon it in or I can help you sit up so you can drink it, but one way or another it’s going in.”

His eyes opened to glare at her. She didn’t back down. 

He moved. It was slow and she heard a low groan that he wasn’t able to stifle, but he sat. He kept one hand down to prop himself. The sheet fell, covering just his lower half. “G’piss.”

Jea nodded and stood. She handed him the cup of broth, taking the spoon. She took a plastic bottle out and waited for him to finish the cup.

“It will help if you turn. Put your feet on the floor.”

He gave her the cup and took the bottle. His breath hissed as he turned, dropping his feet to the floor. When he tried to lift the sheet and position the bottle she could see he was having trouble, and was in pain. 

Jea stepped forward and lifted the sheet, keeping it between them, but out of his way.

He hesitated, then there was the sound of him filling the bottle. When he finished she took the bottle and dumped it, then brought it back so it would be close enough for him to reach. He hadn’t moved.

“Drugged.” The word was slurred and he looked ready to collapse.

“Not really. Vitamins, pain killers, antibiotics. It’s all I have.”

“Should go.”

Jea smiled, “You’re safe here, for now. The authorities came and went.”

“Back,” a whisper, almost a sigh. His head hung.

Jea stepped closer. It was strange that there was a barrier between them only when he was awake, conscious of what she had to do. She’d touched this man more than she’d ever touched anyone, yet he rejected her help, when he was aware of it.

She moved close enough to be there if he passed out while sitting. Knowing his purported crime and having him sitting of his own accord for the first time leant an air of danger that hadn’t been there before. But it was easy to overlook, even ignore as his head dropped further and brushed her side. The barrier was gone, or he was so close to unconsciousness he wasn’t aware of what he was doing, because he leaned against her.

Jea moved closer, gripping his shoulders to help him lie down, but he resisted. It left her standing before him, basically holding him, his head against her stomach.

It was the first contact he’d initiated, one of the first he’d even been aware of. She understood, more than she could ever explain. She was self-sufficient, and had never in her life had to depend on anyone but herself, so she empathized with his predicament. He needed someone, a stranger’s act of kindness, but it was hard to accept.

“I didn’t save your life to turn you in. Sleep. Heal.”

After a minute she tried to move him again and he went easily. She lifted his legs, covering him again with the sheet.

His burns were seeping some fluid, but not enough to worry her. There was no way to bandage them all, so she spread the cooling burn medication, nearly over his whole body, and then covered him with the clean sheet.

She made more broth, and crushed more pills, portioning extra doses into cups with lids. She’d feed him one before she had to open the store and leave the others. Hopefully he would wake enough to medicate himself.

The armchair passed for her bed again. He slept soundly, not waking until about an hour before dawn. His voice woke her. He yelled a name, making her gasp. He continued to mumble, his body tense and jerking.

Jea put her hands on him, one on his forehead, the other on an unburned spot of his arm. He jerked then stilled. She could feel that his fever had broken. He was damp with sweat, but the worst was over. He’d survive, as long as there was no infection.

She heated one of the cups and when he tried to sit she helped, letting him relieve himself before giving him the medicated concoction.

“I have to leave again. I won’t try to come back until after closing, in case they’re watching. I made more of the medicine. Drink some every four hours or so if you feel up to it. Rest. No one can enter this room. A shelf hides the door. No one knows it’s here.”

“Workers.”

Jea picked up the soiled sheets from the floor, “I work alone.”

She stepped out and pulled the door closed.

Before she started for the day she used a hose to rinse down what was left of the mess in the alley. There was little to do. Two nights of animals feeding on it, even the dried portions were almost gone.

She made a call, adding a few items to the shipment that would arrive that night. To keep it from appearing suspicious she added more than what she needed, all unusual items, saying they’d been specially requested.

Her day was as busy as usual. A team of one to run an entire store. If she had a moment to spare there was always something else that needed to be done. 

The authorities didn’t come again. There was another alert for a fugitive. Hopefully it would supersede any interest in the man in her safe room. Eventually they would have to stop looking, especially if they already suspected that he’d washed down the canal.

If she were to guess she would say she wasn’t being watched. She didn’t feel the same as she had last night, just after the Sergeant and his men had left. She’d felt watched then. Maybe her efforts at appearing boring had convinced them to look elsewhere. But she’d still be cautious and make sure she kept to her normal routine, business as usual.

Jea’s stock was running low. The shipment she was expecting would refill the dwindling supplies on the shelves. Tomorrow was the sixth. Sixth Day was a day of rest in the city. Businesses were not allowed to open. She used her day of ‘rest’ to butcher several animals, then just did one every other day during the week. 

She had more customers than usual since it was Fifth Night. Instead of closing at a certain time she waited until there were no more customers before she locked up and turned out the lights. No produce could be stocked, and there was little else to do until the shipment was delivered. She loaded all the unsold meat onto a cart. It would go into the freezer, to be used by her or given away.

Jea wanted to check on her patient. Her Fifth Night was usually busy, but not until the shipment arrived. She had some time now.

Of course there was a chance that he was gone already. He could get out. His clothes were there, damaged, but whole enough. It might even be a relief if he had gone. She was in danger with him there. But he’d be a fool to not take advantage of the opportunity to rest, to heal. He wouldn’t make it far in his condition, nor would it take much to put him back in the condition she’d found him.

She doubted he trusted her, but then again, she’d risked herself and everything she had to take him in. Why would she bother doing that and then turn him in anyway? It would be suicide, and murder. 

She fixed a quick meal, her first since earlier in the day. After eating enough to hold her over she put the rest on a plate with a few other things.

In the cooler she had to set the tray down to move the shelf and unlock the door, then she hesitated. There were weapons within the safe room. If he was able to get up and move around he would have found them.

“It’s me. I’m alone. I brought food.”

She balanced the tray with one hand and pushed the door open. 

The bed was empty. She wasn’t surprised. She suspected he was just behind the door, prepared to strike her down.

She moved forward and set the tray down then held her hands up before turning slowly. He was behind the door, but not menacingly, as she’d expected. He looked as if he were barely standing. And she saw he’d found his pants.

“More company?”

Even though he looked unfit to be vertical his gaze was still alert, and piercing her. “Not today. The ones that came yesterday were mostly interested in the mess in the alley. I cleaned that up this morning. Don’t know if they’ll be back at all.”

“Mess?”

“I butcher my own livestock. The night I found you I accidentally spilled some refuse when I tried to dispose of it.” She shrugged.

“Blood?”

She smiled and nodded, “Yes. A lot of it. I’m afraid it may have made their search more difficult, and it attracts vermin.” She shrugged helplessly.

“All kinds.”

Jea looked at the cabinet where she’d kept a few of her favorite blades, then back at him. “Did you find anything useful?”

His hand appeared. He’d appeared to be leaning, but his arm rose with her blade and his stance didn’t change. Was he trying to fool her about his condition?

“Good quality weapon.”

She smiled, “It’s one of my favorites.”

His shining gaze hadn’t left her, “Your work?”

Jea considered the blade he was holding to nearly be her offspring, “Not work, but by my hand, yes.”

He didn’t speak and she turned to the bed. Both of the sheets were soiled, as she’d expected. She pulled them off and tossed them by the door, then pulled out two fresh sheets from the box beneath the bed. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

She nearly gasped, he’d moved closer, staying along the wall, but now he was within reach of her. She stared at him. Standing for the first time, she could see he was bigger than she’d guessed. That stupid little voice that liked to call her stupid was doing some ‘I told you so’. It was several seconds before she could speak, “I can’t stay. I have a delivery coming. You’ll hear the lift, but I’m the only one that comes below the surface. It will take me a while.”

He didn’t respond, which she was getting used to.

“Tomorrow is the sixth. The store will be closed.”

She saw that he was leaning on the counter behind him. It was too soon for him to be up, much less for a long time. She guessed he’d pushed himself too hard, wanting to be healthy. Instead of helping him she turned away.

“It will be a few hours. I’ll come back when I’m done.” She took the soiled sheets and left.


	5. Chapter 5

There were no livestock in this shipment. She usually only took in livestock once a month. She wouldn’t need more for a few weeks. This shipment was all dried goods, and other household items. 

Jea’s store had a bit of everything. And if a customer wanted something she didn’t have and was willing to wait, she’d order anything. So the clothes she’d added to the shipment just that morning wouldn’t raise eyebrows. Plus, she’d added in a few things for herself, and some other odd items, some decorative items, a child’s electronic game system, a few craft kits. She’d really just picked some random items, a few she’d been considering for a while, and of course, the new clothes for the man in her safe room.

She’d forge a sales receipt, some item traded, just in case she was audited. It was probably paranoia, but she’d rather be on the safe side than have regrets later.

It was close to thirty pallets that she had to bring down and store, doing a quick inventory of each. It was an average sized shipment, nothing out of the ordinary.

When the truck was empty and she was taking the last pallet down, dawn was lighting the sky. Jea was nearly dead on her feet. She’d intended to check on her patient, care for his burns, ensure that he was medicating himself. She didn’t make it that far.

The office chair was in the storage area, left after she’d used it to get the man into the safe room. She sat to check the list the delivery man had given her, just checking that she’d seen everything on the list. Her head dropped to the plastic wrapped boxes on the pallet. It didn’t rise.

Jea woke with a jerk, and then groaned in pain. She wiped her face and sat up, looking around and feeling stupid. She’d fallen asleep in the office chair. It had woken her when the wheels rolled. But she didn’t have to look at the clock on the wall to know she’d slept for a while. Her back and neck ached from the strange angle.

She stood, and stretched, feeling disoriented. It was morning. On any other day the store would be open already.

To get her head straight she went around and checked all the locks, making sure the store was secure. She was usually meticulous about locking up, but checking made her feel better.

She did feel guilty about leaving her patient for so long. She’d told him she’d be back in a few hours. That had been almost eight hours ago.

Her tummy growled for breakfast, but she wanted to check on him first.

Jea pulled the shelf out of the way and then waited a few seconds. If he was up and moving around he might not be decent. She smiled to think that he wouldn’t be covering anything she hadn’t already seen.

“Are you awake?” she asked as she pushed the door open a crack.

He was sitting on the bed facing her. The sheet was piled to one side. He wore his pants, but was still shirtless and barefoot. “Long night.”

Jea smiled, “I’m sorry. I fell asleep after getting the delivery put away. I just woke up.”

“’Nother bed?”

Her brows rose, “I do. This is just a safe room. I live above the store. But, no, I fell asleep down here.”

He didn’t speak again and she pushed the door open the rest of the way. “Well, I’m going to make some breakfast. Would you like me to tend your injuries before we eat?”

He studied her, “Why? What do you want?”

Jea smiled, understanding. She offered something that he felt had a price, or was possibly motivated by another purpose. Since there was no apparent purpose…

“I don’t want anything from you. I understand that kindness is scarce, but it does exist. I don’t want anything at all.”

“Your life.”

She smiled, “That is true. I would appreciate it if you accepted my hospitality and also let me live.” 

“Why?”

She shrugged, “I do enjoy being alive.”

No response. So sarcasm wasn’t a tolerated form of humor. “I don’t have a reason. I’m helping because I want to. Take it or leave it.”

“Or both.”

Jea smiled, “Again, you make a valid point. You may accept now and do as you will after. I’m afraid I won’t be a very sporting kill.”

An impasse. Jea found it surreal to speak of her death as if it weren’t a thing. 

“I have a shower. Cold water might ease some of your pain.”

He stood, carefully, and she took it as acceptance. That he was up and moving on his own was amazing to her. Just two nights ago she had found him immobile in the alley. His injuries were extensive and should have kept him in bed for a week, if not more. His movement was slow, showing that he was still suffering, but it was obviously not enough to keep him down.

Jea led him out of the cooler and through the level to the shower.

“Gonna tend here?” His hands were already undoing his pants, his taunting question obviously intended to scare her off.

“Yes, actually. I want to check the burns on your back and the light is better here.” She demonstrated by flipping a row of switches, that lit up the room.

He cursed and covered his eyes. “Off.”

Jea froze for one second, not understanding, then she realized what had happened and turned off the lights. “I’m sorry. Your eyes. I didn’t realize.”

His head still hung and she felt horrible for adding to his discomfort. “I’m really sorry.”

He slowly lifted his head, making her realize again how big he was, not just wide but tall as well. Without a word he turned to the tiled wall with several shower heads on hoses.

Jea followed him, trying not to look at his ass, and failing.

He turned on one hose while she turned on another. “I found you lying on your back. When I washed you that first night it was difficult to check for debris.”

She hosed down his wide back, marred by the many wide burns from phaser fire. Then stepping closer she rinsed each burn carefully, inspecting it for any foreign matter. She found a few bits of gravel, some threads, probably from his shirt. But mostly they were clean.

“Soap?”

She blinked, “Uh, no. I have-- Oh, wait.”

Jea jogged back to her butcher room and grabbed a bar of soap she used to scrub her nails. As she entered the shower room she was met with the full image of his nude form. From here the injuries just looked like discoloration, their severity not obvious. So she was able to see him, the whole him.

She nearly stumbled. The width and musculature of his shoulders had been apparent even while he was unconscious and lying down. His ass had been enjoyable to watch close up, but the whole thing… The curve of his waist, the thickness of his thighs, the significant V-shape of his powerful form. He was incredible.

He made her feel small suddenly, and added weight to the notion of him being dangerous. She moved closer slowly, watching the water run over his head and back over his shoulders. He stood motionless, head down, letting the water run.

She held the bar of soap out and he took it instantly, even though she could see his eyes were closed. 

Jea went and found a towel, then thinking ahead, she changed his sheets and put a second fresh sheet on the bed. He wouldn’t be able to dry thoroughly and she figured he wouldn’t want to sleep on wet sheets.

He’d shut off the water by the time she returned. She had to cross the room again, this time with him facing her. She tried to only look at his injuries, or not look at all.

“Sure there ain’t a reason?”

Her gaze met his and she smiled. She wouldn’t deny it. She was a woman, and he was a man. If something happened she wouldn’t stop it, and would most likely encourage any hint of something. 

“I think it would be best to keep those burns moist. I don’t have enough bandages for them all. You’d look like a mummy if I did.” She smiled, thinking of him completely wrapped in gauze. “If you’re up to it, I think you should shower every few hours.”

He’d taken the towel and was drying his face, still blatantly naked in front of her and not appearing to care. “You a doc?”

“I’m not. It just makes sense. Burns always tighten, and with the size of yours, they could do some major damage if they shrink.”

He didn’t respond, but worked slowly to get his pants back on. Jea stepped closer once when she thought he might tip over. 

“Gonna dress me?” There was an edge to his voice.

“I’m going to do what needs to be done. Remember that.”

His shiny glare stabbed her, but she didn’t back down. “You got a name?”

“Yes, it’s Jea. I’ll understand if you don’t want to tell me yours.”

He didn’t, right away. After his pants were on and he’d stood up as straight as he could he said, “Johns.”

Jea knew in an instant that he wasn’t ‘Johns’. The alert hadn’t given a name. Fugitives weren’t worth enough to be given the courtesy of a name. She considered calling his bluff, but then she’d just told him that she’d understand. If he wanted to give her a false name, wasn’t that good enough? 

“Nice to meet you, Johns. I made up the bed again. You might feel better if you lie down for a while before we eat.”

She saw him tense, wanting to argue, but then he sighed and nodded. 

Jea could tell he was hurting. Wanting to be up and healthy didn’t make it happen. His body was busy, doing a lot of healing. So even walking would sap his energy. It would be hard to accept, much less give in to.

She walked with him, noting how much slower the return trip to the room was. 

“I want to warn you. The showers will soften the scabs. You may feel like you can move better. Not feel as tight, but if you move too much and rip some open it will be worse. It will take much longer to heal.”

He turned to face her before sitting on the bed and she ignored the ‘awake’ barrier and gripped his arms, counterbalancing his weight as he sat. A short hiss escaped his clenched jaw.

“Keep taking the medicine I left. It wasn’t just to fight the fever.” She helped to lift his legs as he laid over on his back.

“Bitchy,” he mumbled, but clearly enough.

Jea smiled, “Yeah, I’m gonna sound bitchy, because you don’t want to hear the truth. You nearly died. You’re still injured. Get up to piss and shower, but that’s it. You need to rest. You might feel lazy and restless, but your body is busy fighting. It’s going to make you feel weak. The more you’re up, the more you’ll feel it.”

“Not a doc.”

She huffed, “Tell me I’m wrong,” she challenged. He didn’t, of course. “I’m not a warden, Johns. My demands are for your own good. There’s nothing you need to do except lie there and get better.”

He laid with one hand tucked behind his head, the arm with the least injury to it. Finally he nodded, “Food?”

Jea nodded, “Yeah, I’m going.”

Thirty minutes later she pushed into the room with a tray loaded with food. Her chickens laid a lot of eggs and she’d nearly cooked all the ones she’d gathered. He needed protein, and vitamins. Eggs and meat for protein, juice and milk gravy for the biscuits for vitamins.

He sat up, faster than he probably should have. She saw him wince, but he was already reaching for the tray. She took her plate from it and let him have the rest.

It had been a while since she’d cooked for anyone but herself. She hadn’t known how much to cook. How much did men eat? Especially one that hadn’t had a good sized meal in days. She’d finally just made about five times what she’d normally eat. If it didn’t get eaten it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

“Good.” The compliment came through a mouthful of biscuits, and he hadn’t bothered to look up to say it. His fork was already poised to shove in more food.

Jea finished her much smaller portion and then just sat and watched him eat.

“Eggs.” It wasn’t really a question, but Jea couldn’t figure what else he could mean.

“I have chickens. They lay a few dozen a day.” She smiled, “I think you just ate a few dozen.”

He was slowing though. The steak and eggs had gone first, washed down with the juice and coffee. The potatoes and biscuits were more just filler anyway. He finally set the fork down and burped.

Jea stood to take the tray. “Will you let me put medicine on you?”

“Gonna get bitchy if I don’t.”

Jea smiled, “For your own good of course.”

He sighed loud enough to sound dramatic, “You want me sitting?”

To keep him from having to move, Jea climbed carefully onto the bed behind him. She spread the salve carefully, inspecting each burn as she went, checking for signs of infection or bleeding. As she moved around to the front she found it was more convenient to kneel in front of him, which put her in an uncomfortable position.

“I’m supposed to say ‘while you’re down there’.” He didn’t bother to even open his eyes to deliver the crude suggestion.

Jea’s body reacted to the invitation, or at least that’s what she saw it as. She wouldn’t say she was flattered. Just as she’d considered that he was male and available, the same would be true for her. They’d be psychotic to not consider it.

“I’m not sure you’re up to it.” She tried to keep the smile from sounding in her voice.

“Check.”

She figured he’d meant it sarcastically, but she hadn’t been around a willing and available man in a long time. She was in position. So she wasn’t completely surprised when she watched her hand drop the front of his pants. He groaned, a low deep sound that was different than the raw sounds of his pain. His body tensed.

“Not sure if this is considered tending,” she said, her fingers undoing his pants, not for the first time. As he’d said, he was hard. “Lay down. I can take care of this too.”

His eyes finally opened. The intensity of his narrowed gaze seemed more severe, but he did lie down.

Jea didn’t have to move far. His pants were still up, but now open to expose his erection. She gripped the base and lowered her head. While she wasn’t vastly experienced, she found the task enjoyable. For her it was a case of ‘abstinence makes the act seem funner’.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, or participate in any way. When his hand gripped her shoulder it was a warning, and she understood it as that. He jerked just after and then her mouth filled with salty acidic cum. She swallowed, more than once, before removing her mouth.

She didn’t bother closing his pants, and just pulled the sheet over him. He appeared to be more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, well since that first night.

“Thanks.”

Jea leaned down and pressed a kiss on his forehead, which wrinkled beneath the sentiment. “Sleep.”

She carried the tray out with her, trying to be as quiet as possible.

There was a lot of work to do, and already it was getting late in the morning. It would take her hours to fully stock the store and she still needed to butcher. Sometimes it felt like her work was never done and she wondered if it was worth it. But running the store was all she knew. It was her life.

Before she got started she took a shower, and found her own release. She could imagine the smell and taste of him still, which gave a fresh twist to the normally monotonous activity.


	6. Chapter 6

Load after load was taken into the store and placed neatly on the shelves. She did the inventory as she went. From one end of the store to the other, until the chore was done. It was mid afternoon.

She set the automops to work and went below. Nothing else would go up until early in the morning before she opened. She cared for the garden, checking the monitors that controlled the nutrients in the water, and harvested what was ready. Then she fed and watered the livestock, marking the ones that had reached the end of their stay with her. Four of the larger animals, and if she had time she’d do a few of the smaller ones. She was waiting for a few different litters to reach the right size. They were close. And she might do a chicken or two. She had some chicks just out of that gawky stage. 

Jea led one of the cows into the butcher room. In a special corral she attached straps to hold up the animal after it was dead. Then she put on her jacket and apron and boots and chose her favorite tool. The blade would easily slice through the animal's hide and jugular. 

She humanely incapacitated the animal, then stood and watched the blood run for a few seconds. It gushed forward onto the floor and then ran slowly toward a drain, to be collected below. Using a chain on a motorized winch, she tied the animal's back feet together and hoisted it into the air so it could bleed out the rest of the way. A second cow, a fat swine, and a horse-like animal called a caballus. It was a bigger and leaner animal than the cows.

After the four were hung she set up the contraption she’d engineered to remove the hide. It was mostly just a series of hooks and clampy claws that pulled downward as she cut. What it lacked in sophistication it made up for with ingenuity. It took a job that would normally require several people or a lot of time and let her do it by herself and quickly. 

The messy part of removing the entrails was something she did the old fashioned way. She positioned a wide bin in front of the animal and climbed onto a stool to slit its peritoneal sack. The contents spilled out into the barrel and she had to tug out any clingers and then sift through the mess to find the organs she wanted to keep.

A bone saw helped her move whole chunks of the animals to her work table. From there she cut, portioned, and even ground up the entire animal.

Jea had finished the swine and caballus and had just started one of the cows when she heard the door to the cooler. She looked up as Johns stepped out of the walk-in and let the door close behind him.

“Sorry. You might want to stay back.”

He stayed next to the door and didn’t say anything so she went back to work. She had the work down to a science, hacking and slicing meat from the bone, dropping the exact amounts onto the scale and barely checking the accuracy, pushing the leftover bits over the edge into the grinder. She took down another quarter of the cow in just minutes.

“S’why you make knives.”

She glanced up, not stopping her work. “They are my tools, but yes, I make them for this.” She hefted one of the extra tools at her table, flipping it end to end in her hand and then she threw it. He stood next to the bulletin board. The blade stuck, quivering slightly. “And I play with them some.”

He took the blade down while she went back to work.

“You’re good.”

Jea shrugged, “Yeah, I guess. I’ve had a lot of practice.” She shrugged again, “It really doesn’t matter.”

He flipped the blade over in his hand, much as she had, but then he twirled it and spun it. Jea froze, watching. It looked as if he never touched it, spinning it around and around, even over the back of his hand. How did he control it so well?

He moved forward, opposite the worktable from her and held the blade out. “It does matter.”

She smiled and took it from him. It had left blood on his hand from when she’d touched it. “That was amazing.”

“It’s a good blade.”

Jea almost felt like blushing. No one but her had ever handled her tools. To have someone so apparently knowledgeable compliment her was kind of overwhelming. 

Without hesitating Johns slid a slab of meat over in front of him and started slicing it. After thinly cutting a dozen even slices he pushed the stack towards the scale. “One pound at a time?”

Jea nodded stupidly, only able to watch him. He slid the meat off onto the scale. It was the right amount, for it dropped, depositing it on a sheet of wax paper to be wrapped up. She absently stepped on the pedal on her side that would draw the wax paper further for the next pound of meat.

“Do you cure any?”

After her shocked stupid moment she managed to slowly get back into her groove, finding it very strange to work across from someone. “I used to, but it didn’t sell as fast. People want fresh.”

Pound after pound, the meat slid off onto the scale so quickly it amazed her. 

“Always the same cut?”

“I do some thicker, and I grind up what can’t be sliced. I also sell the organs.” She shrugged, “I make it available fresh, I can’t be expected to have every cut of meat.”

“Brain and tongue?”

Jea shuddered, “I make them available, but the thought of eating brain grosses me out.”

He smiled and Jea found herself staring at the brilliant expression on his previously stoic face. “Always thought they made me smarter.”

“Hardy-har.” She continued to work, liking the bit of change she’d seen.

In a remarkably short time they finished the first cow. Jea moved the beef they’d divided up. It was now neatly stacked in a wheeled basket in a long zigzag-folded piece of wax paper. She pushed it into the walk-in to be dealt with later. The ground beef had all gone into a bucket. She sealed it and hauled it into the walk-in as well. Then she cleaned and sanitized the entire work table and tools and prepared everything for the next cow.

“Last one?”

She lowered the first quarter onto the table, still amazed to see him on the opposite side of the table, able and willing to help.

“Yes, but you don’t have to help. If you’d rather shower and lie down, I understand. I’ll be in to check on you in a while.”

He spun the blade in his hand before looking up at her, “I’m not going back to that bed alone.”

Jea’s eyes widened at the blatant suggestion. “Is that right?” She smiled, liking that there seemed to be no barriers at all now. “I don’t think you’re up to it.”

He slid a bloody stack of sliced beef off onto the scale, “We gonna go over that again?”

Jea grinned and stepped on the pedal before sliding her stack off onto the scale. “While I enjoyed seeing to your… needs, I’m not planning to make a habit of it.” She used a bigger blade to chop at a tendon and then went back to slicing. “That is, I’m feeling a little left out.”

Johns’ gaze held hers, silver to plain old brown, and he gave a smug sort of smile, “I admire a woman that knows what she wants.”

“Oh, I want you. Wasn’t I clear enough?”

Another wide smile that seemed to transform his face, “Say shit like that and then say I ain’t up to it.”

Jea shrugged one shoulder and stepped away to get another quarter of the cow. “You’re not. You need more time to heal.” She sighed, “I’ll survive.”

They worked in silence. Able to concentrate, Jea was able to show him up, getting three stacks for every two of his. It was still impressive that he was nearly as fast as she was, and she could easily see that his cuts were uniform and that he never hesitated. She didn’t bother trying to think of possible reasons for his skill.

The last quarter of beef hit the table and he set down his tools. Jea watched him, already cutting into the meat herself.

“Take that shower now.” He left, not looking back. Jea knew because she watched him the entire time.

She sighed and got back to work. “Sure, leave right before the cleanin’.” She smiled to herself and heard the water come on in the shower.

A few minutes later Jea wheeled the meat cart away and then lugged the bucket after. She still had a few hour’s worth of wrapping and labeling to do, but she would be able to do much of that after the store opened, or even per sale.

Jea wiped the table down and cleaned her tools and the grinder, putting the parts away for next time. The entire area needed to be sanitized and she started with the table, getting the floor and meat hooks last. She hung her apron and jacket in the sanitation locker. 

The table still held her array of tools, blades and saws, most of them homemade. She was at the table inspecting them when she heard the shower stop.

And then Johns appeared. Naked.


	7. Chapter 7

Jea could only stare as Johns walked across the room towards her. Okay, and pant. Even naked, with his injuries displayed so plainly he still moved with the easy grace of a cat. It made her smile to think that a wildcat had found him for her.

“You going to argue this?”

Jea closed her eyes and felt her body coil in anticipation. “No,” she heard herself whisper.

He gripped her neck and then his mouth was on hers. Hard and hot. She hadn’t expected it. Kissing was so intimate. She wouldn’t have thought he’d bother, but just get to the good stuff.

The kiss didn’t seem to be keeping him from the good stuff though. He yanked at her pants and then shoved them down. A break as he dipped and lifted her. The table was cold on her bare ass. Another yank and she was out of her pants altogether, and he came back.

He was damp from the shower. And hot, so much hotter than the cold metal beneath her.

His mouth was on hers again, his hand on her neck to keep her there. Her knees spread when he pushed forward, making room for him.

Jea didn’t know where to touch. He was one big scab, his burns were healing decently, but they wouldn’t if she started groping. It just wasn’t fair. Ignoring the little voice in her head that told her he wouldn’t appreciate her touching his head, she gripped him much like he was her. It was the only place he was injury-free.

He shoved forward, his erection bumping her secret places but not finding entry. He did it again, shoving up against the table.

A hand on her side, rough fingertips scraping over sensitive skin. Jea shuddered. 

His hand moved higher, over her rib cage, tickling. She released him to lift the barrier over her head, bra and all, wanting him to have access, wanting anything and everything.

He paused, looking down. His hand rose to her breast and she felt a tremble pass through her, but didn’t look away from those silver eyes.

Jea knew she was no model. She worked for a living. While there were skipped meals and more than her fair share of heavy lifting, there was also access to too much food, and hours and hours of little to no activity. So even though she was strong, and fit, she had a layer of softness that added to her curves, and of course increased the size of her breasts.

He gave a hint of a smile, which she accepted as his mark of appreciation, and then he kneaded her flesh, using his other hand to haul her up again. 

The kissing was nice, but there was a reason it had been unexpected: this was about something else. She’d take the kissing and the groping, but she wanted him. Jea held on, just one arm around his neck and reached down with the other hand. 

He tensed and shoved forward again, this time into her hand. She tugged as he pulled back and his whole body reacted, clenching over her, his teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

“You up to this?”

Jea grinned, “I am.”

He gripped her hips, big hands squeezing as his arms and shoulders flexed, lifting her, pulling her closer to the edge.

“If I can work at this table I can work you at this table.” 

He shoved forward, into her hand, but now she was closer, her legs forced wider. She directed, concerned that he’d hurt her with his fervor, but he stopped short, letting her guide the entry.

She sighed and shuddered as she stroked herself with the thick head. He wasn’t patient, pushing steadily forward. 

“Ah, damn, this is going to be tight,” she half-whispered, half-groaned.

A few short thrusts later, when it became obvious he was in enough to keep him seated she let go. He tugged her face up to meet his.

Jea gasped into him, her tongue matching his energetic play. 

His hand gripped her ass, keeping her from slipping. When he shoved forward this time there was nowhere for her to go. She moaned and flexed, on him and in his arms. 

She was tall enough to keep her mouth on his, even this close, but so stupid after the second stroke she didn’t have the wits to respond to his kiss. “Ah, damn, yes,” she breathed.

His smile was a combination of the wide beautiful smile and the smug one he’d shown her. He was a male giving a woman what she needed and he knew it.

“Still think I ain’t up to it?”

Jea squeezed his neck, forcing herself closer, arching onto him, “Shut up and do this!”

He gripped her ass almost painfully and thrust into her hard, grinding. When her mouth fell open he covered it with his and thrust into her over and over. She could feel that he was using her hair as a handhold, fist clenched near the scalp, not hurting, but controlling.

She managed to hold onto enough of her wits to react, to return his kiss, their mouths just open, tongues stabbing almost convulsively, without pretense. He didn’t give her much freedom to move with him, but she flexed, stomach and inner muscles, doing everything in her power to keep him inside her and squeeze him tighter.

It was there, so close. She tugged and ground against him, knowing the end result, sure of it, but still wanting it so bad she felt desperate. Patience was not a virtue she could boast of.

But either he wanted it as badly, or her need for culmination matched his limit of stamina. Grace became zeal, rhythm became efficiency. They worked, drove towards one goal, hands gripping, mouths locked, breaths one.

The clenching center of her need tipped. She felt an increase in fluids, in heat, and if he didn’t thrust harder, then it was the loss of all friction that suddenly made it feel like he was impaling her. The tipping center crashed apart. She jerked, lost to any cadence, lost to anything but that detonation.

She was aware of him, as a peripheral. His continued movement registered, his release, his raw sounds and clenched body, his breathing and scent. It was there but so trivial.

Her body quivered, aftershocks that made her shudder and whimper. She found her arms still around his neck and she fit her mouth to his without opening her eyes. Languid and sloppy compared to the hot slashes of need from before. 

Silver met her gaze, so close it was remarkably significant. There was no space between them, much less barriers. In truth he hadn’t even pulled out yet. 

“Thank you.”

“For fucking you.”

“Hmm,” she smiled, feeling sated and silly, but knew this was simple, no complications, no entanglements. “Yeah, let’s leave it there.”

He had to release her hair, which he did carefully, freeing his fingers from the clinging strands. Free, he petted down the medium length, making her shiver and smile. A sort of reparation? 

“You didn’t hurt me,” she assured him, though it wouldn’t have mattered if he had. And he might have. Had he pulled her hair? She honestly couldn’t remember and didn’t care either way.

He stepped back, putting space, and barriers, between them again. One second of uncomfortable and then he was walking away, heading for the shower, either to wash again or get his clothes.

Jea hopped down and slid into her own clothes. She would wait to shower until she was upstairs where there was more privacy.

“Johns, I got you new clothes.” 

He appeared in the doorway holding his pants. “Wonderin’ what I was gonna wear.”

She headed for the door and the steps leading up to the storage area where she’d put the shipment. “I added a few things to my order. I figured you’d need a shirt eventually and nothing I have will work.” A box on the top, bigger and lighter than the others. She dragged it down and pulled it open. “I got you a jacket too. Those burns are telltale. Anyone sees those and you’ll be back in custody before you know it.”

He took the things she handed him. The jacket was a sturdy wind-proof material. She’d made sure it had a hood just in case.

“Aiding and abetting.”

Jea huffed, “Yeah, I guess. I don’t want to know your crimes. It doesn’t matter. No one deserves what they did to you. You were tortured. No one has the right to do that.”

He stared at her for a while. “Had worse.”

She smiled, “Does that change anything?”

“Maybe I deserved it.”

She bent to close the box and tossed it back on top of the pallet. “Like I said, I don’t care what you might have done to make even you think you deserved that. You’re a person. They are appointed to serve and protect. That means you too.”

He smiled, “That’ll be the day.”

Just above them, in the store, something fell. Something small. Nothing scary.

Jea rolled her eyes, “I better go check what that was. Damn mops might be tearin’ stuff up.” She left him, not seeing that his stance had changed.


	8. Chapter 8

Jea took the stairs, jogging up, grinning to herself. Her underwear had become damp, absorbing the juices of their fun. She could smell him, them, on herself. She knew she needed a shower, and would get to it eventually. 

It was dark out and the lights were all off, but there was enough light from other things. She headed to the back first, checking to see if any of the automops were out on the floor. The light in the utility closet showed her clearly that the three machines were all at their stations. Well what the hell?

Maybe a stack of something had overbalanced. It had been hours, and it seemed strange to have something fall so long after, but it could happen. A bad box, a dented can, a shifting sack of something.

First aisle, nothing. Second aisle, nothing. Third aisle…

The crash of glass was so unexpected that Jea yelped and flung herself around to face the sound. Another crash, another.

Lights glared into the front of the store, through what had once been windows. Wavering silhouettes with weapons and flashlights swarmed in, too many to count.

“Get on the floor.”

Jea could only stare stupidly. What the hell was this?

Two men grabbed her, wrenching her arms around painfully, but she barely felt it. Restrained, she was shoved forward, toward the blinding glare of lights in the street.

Finally out of the lights, doors opened, the back of a truck and she was forced in. She fell to her knees, awkward and unable to balance with her hands behind her back. A cage door slammed behind her and then the softer double slam of the transport’s doors.

Oh, God, Johns! Somehow they’d figured out he was in the lower levels of her store. He would be captured, taken, killed. She had no doubt of it. They would kill him, if only to cover up what they’d done to him.

Maybe she could plead his case. She was a citizen. Someone would have to listen.

Jea struggled to her feet. She had to lean over to use one of the benches to finally get up. Her hair hung in her face, still loose since their fun, and she had to jerk her head to get it away to even see. She felt pathetic and ashamed and was stupidly pleased that no one could see how hard it was for her to get up.

She tried kicking the side, to get someone’s attention, but she fell. With her hands bound she couldn’t balance and she landed hard on her elbow, catching the bench on her way down. 

Suddenly she didn’t care who the hell saw her trying to get up. That hurt!

She sat on the bench and used her elbow, banging hard against the riveted metal of the truck’s side.

A dozen hits, twenty, thirty. When she had to switch elbows because of the pain she had the first glimmer of doubt. She’d been thrown into a truck and ignored. No one seemed to notice, or care.

Finally, aching and sweaty, bruised and bleeding, panting from effort and fear, she had to stop. This was insane. The truck wasn’t moving. That was a good sign at least, right?

After what felt like an eternity. After every single scenario and fear she thought she could imagine had passed through her head, one of the doors opened.

She stared, both hoping for and against seeing Johns bound and forced into the cage with her. Selfishly, she wanted him there, to comfort her. Plus, if she saw him she’d know he was at least okay, for now. Seeing the face of a well-armed officer staring in at her didn’t relieve the tension. Had they found him? Had they killed him already? He was still so weak, so injured. There had been so many officers. It had been so sudden. He wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Where is he?”

“What?”

Another officer stepped forward, “Don’t play stupid, bitch! Where is he?!” he yelled.

Jea jerked, not expecting the verbal attack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her mouth was saying the words, but her mind was doing cartwheels. They hadn’t found him! Somehow he’d hidden. So he was still alive!

“Riddick. We know he was inside. His heat signature matched. He was there just minutes ago. Where did he go?”

She shook her head, staring. So his real name wasn’t Johns. She’d known it was fake. Why would he lie though? They knew who he was obviously. What did it matter if she knew one way or the other?

“I don’t know any Riddick. I don’t know what you’re talking about. It was just me in the store.”

“Fucking bitch! We know you’re lying!” the second officer screamed at her.

“Corman, stop. Organize the watch. If he’s in there he won’t be leaving. They’ll get her to talk. They always do.”

The calm assertion sent shivers down her spine like nothing else could. “I haven’t done anything. I want an explanation and someone’s going to pay for that mess.”

“You won’t have to worry about that,” he calmly told her, almost sounding reassuring. He smiled, his eyes glistening in the reflected light of the many searchlights, “Not where you’re going.”

The door closed and Jea was left with a fear bigger than could be contained. She ran, hitting the bars and then kicking through at the doors. “Hey! You can’t do this! Let me out! I didn’t do anything!”

There was no answer, just the sounds of voices, muffled by the tight container of the truck. The truck’s engine started and it jerked forward suddenly, throwing her to the floor.

Jea didn’t move. She lay staring at the gray riveted ceiling and wanted to cry. What the hell had just happened? An hour ago she was finishing up her Sixth Day chores and anticipating sex and then planning a shower and a good night’s sleep. That had been an hour ago. One hour. It felt like a lifetime ago. She had been a different person then, ignorant and naïve and stupid. 

One decision, a simple humane act had changed her life, ruined it, possibly ended it. She’d only wanted to help someone in need. Wasn’t there something like karma, good deeds being rewarded? 

Of course, it had been illegal. He was a fugitive.

He’d told her she was stupid. Johns, no, Riddick, had said she was stupid. She smiled in the dark, with tears welling in her eyes. She’d known she was taking a risk, or at least she thought she had known. And he’d thanked her. It had seemed significant, special. For a second she figured it had all been worthless.

No!

Jea sat up, hurting to do it. She didn’t try to get off the floor, sitting was enough. 

She’d taken a dying man off the street. She hadn’t asked for anything. She’d known there could be trouble, but she’d done it anyway. Why? Because she couldn’t have _not_ helped. Regrets now didn’t change that. She could beat herself up and she knew she’d still do the same thing again. Illegal, punishable, whatever, she hadn’t done anything wrong and no one could convince her otherwise.


	9. Chapter 9

They did a lot of convincing. Jea had thought she had imagined what they would do. She had thought she was prepared, ready to withstand their methods. But she’d had no idea! There was no way to prepare for something like this. It wasn’t the torture, and that’s what it was. They called it ‘tactics’ and ‘methods’ and ‘persuasion’. It was torture. But it wasn't just the torture. It was the ripping apart and smashing of her ideals and beliefs.

Jea had always suspected that the government was corrupt. She knew there were dubious things going on. But she’d had faith. The system was sound, right? Even if there were a few ‘questionable’ deeds, the overall system was good. Learning the truth, that she’d been lied to and had been lying to herself all this time, was the hardest part to accept. There was no chance of a superior coming in to stop this horror. There would be no justice. There was no hope.

Days went by. A period of endless time and misery. Later, much later, she considered that it may have only been hours, or a period of time that should have been measured in hours rather than days. There was no way for her to calculate time, there was only misery, not all of it pain. Sleeplessness and hunger were her enemies as well.

The questions came over and over, always the same questions. After a while she realized how ridiculous they were. If Johns, Riddick, had not been found by now then it was safe to say he was not in the store. Probably not in the city. There was no way for her to know where he was.

Jea was surprised by the lack of emotion that she felt. She wasn’t sad, not really. There was nothing to be sad for. The only thing in her life had been her store. There was nothing there, nothing specific. It was just a lack of anything else. She had regrets, a butt-load of them, but she didn’t hate, feel anger, nothing, there was just nothing there.

When the single unremitting ‘interrogation’ ended she was put into a windowless cell. There was no way for her to tell time, morning from night, day from day. There was no time, no feelings. She was alone and empty.

A sort of pattern emerged. She was regularly taken to a room for ‘questioning’. Blindfolded, there was no way to know who or how many were present. Over a series of dozens of ‘questionings’ she began to understand that there was just one man. He administered the punishment for her failure to give correct answers. Though sometimes there were no questions at all.

Beatings were the norm. Bound, blindfolded, she couldn’t see the strap, didn’t know what would happen until she heard the sing of leather a half-second before it made contact. An emotionless voice sometimes intoned the count, “One. Two. Three. Four…” It took more than twenty to make her stumble. With nothing to hold onto, nothing to support herself, she would drop to her knees. She didn’t yell or cry. She’d learned that it wouldn’t help or change anything, except make her feel weak later. After every set of ten she would stand again, forcing herself up. There was no point to it. He would just beat her down again, but she felt it was important, to herself, to always take what they gave and stand again.

Eventually the beatings weren’t enough. She had to ask herself, enough for what? 

The first rape was torture, as the beatings couldn’t be anymore. She fought, what little she could, bound and blind. Futile. 

The invasion into her body was what she fought. The pain, while new, was just pain. 

After the first rape they were intermittent, mixed in with the beatings. Sometimes he would beat her then rape her.

Jea would be taken back to her cell again. The meals came irregularly. There was nothing at all for her to look forward to until the next time she was taken for ‘questioning’.

Her meal arrived, slid in under the door while she lay on her bare cot. She’d only been returned a while ago and was hurting still, resting. Nothing out of the ordinary until she heard the men speaking to each other.

“Don’t know why Sarge keeps her here. Her sentence came down a fuckin’ month ago. He keeps delaying her transfer.” 

“Shit! I know why,” the other man leered.

The first man was quick with an answer, “Fuck, I know why he’s keepin’ her. But it’s not like he can still be askin’ questions about Riddick. That fucker was sighted on another world weeks ago.”

They were moving away. She just heard the first man speak again, “I guess he’ll get tired of her eventually.”

For the first time in a long time Jea cried. She didn’t know if it was for herself or for Riddick or just the entire situation. He was free, or at least he hadn’t been captured on this hell of a planet, with its fraudulent justice system. Learning she’d been sentenced should make her feel something. There had been no lawyers, no trial, no judge that she knew of, and she hadn’t been informed of her sentence. 

‘Sarge’ was the one who found her so entertaining. She wondered if it was the same Sergeant that had come into her store looking for the fugitive. Had he taken the near-miss personal? Had he been penalized for having been at the place Riddick was hiding and not finding him, and now blamed her for it?

And where was she to be transferred to? A prison? Off world? A slam? Worse? She found she wanted that transfer. It would be a change from the monotony of misery her life had become.

When she could stand it, when the aching from beatings and rapes had settled to a bearable level, Jea did exercises in her cell. Pushups, sit ups, stretches. A high bar on her cell door worked to do pull ups. She would sit for long periods of time against the wall. Anything to be working her muscles, fearing atrophy from the confined space.

After she'd done all the usual exercises she started making up her own. Side-lunges, knee-ups, standing backbends. She even practiced striking moves and kicks. She tried to think of any muscle missed during routine exercise. And anything that could be used as self defense.

She was bound and blindfolded and led to her ‘questioning’ with Sarge. The last time she’d been with him he’d become angry for some unknown reason and thrown her. She’d hit the wall, hard, losing a few seconds of consciousness. She’d come to under him, her arms bent at a painful angle, his heavy body crushing hers as he raped her. Later she was sore in places that she hadn’t remembered getting hit, so she figured he’d beat her while she was out.

None of it mattered, of course. There was nothing she could do to change it, keep it from happening again, but it had been notably different.

Today she stood still in the place she had been left and waited for whatever he would do. She’d decided that she almost preferred the rapes. It took the least amount of time to recover from.

Something was different. She focused her senses, the ones she had left. Being blind so often, and since she never spoke anymore, she had found that she could hear so many things. Her sense of smell had always been acute and was now even more so. It was always the same smells over and over, so new ones easily stood out. 

There was a burning smell. Dust. Like when you turned on a rarely used light bulb. Except this smell crackled. Then there was the sound of something dragging, something metal, small but heavy. Not a thin metal, like a blade, it made her think of something round, a pole or stick made of a heavy metal.

Jea’s nostrils flared and she realized that whatever it was was nearby. Just a second later she felt heat as the object came even closer. Now she could smell Sarge’s breath and sweat. He was nearly panting, excited.

Anything that excited him would be bad for her. Without knowing the danger, but knowing it would be bad, she kicked out. It wasn’t a calculated movement. She wasn’t aiming for anything specifically. She hadn’t even thought of the consequences, or the fact that she’d probably only make it worse for herself when he became angry.

Her bare foot hit nothing, but closer, her knee hit something, something hard and hot. It hurt, possibly a burn or cut. There was a second of suspended silence, and then he screamed. _Screamed_. She heard a hiss and a sizzle. She could smell burning, hair maybe. He screamed again, then hesitated, as if he were taking a breath to do it again, but then he dropped and no more sounds came. 

She used her shoulder to push at her blindfold, one of the stretching exercises she’d been practicing. It didn’t remove the blindfold, but it gave her enough room to see out.

‘Sarge’ was Sergeant Collins from her store. It was the same man, though he’d put on a considerable amount of weight. Now he lay at her feet, an iron spike sticking out of his face. Smoke frizzled up from where it was embedded. His gloved hand made her assume that it had been very hot. She looked towards the place she’d first heard him and saw a second spike sitting in an open flame, nearly half of it red hot.

The door opened suddenly and she resumed her helpless stance. She was the only other person in the room, but it would be hard to prove that she’d killed him. She was bound and blindfolded and half his size.

Obviously that didn’t matter. She was brought before a judge for her sentencing for ‘ _murdering an upstanding member of society as well as a valiant and decorated officer_ ’. Her eyes had rolled at the judge’s flamboyant description of a malicious monster.

At least she was present to hear her sentence. A life. That’s what they wanted. They sentenced her to life for defending herself. If there was anything left inside of her it fled at that moment. Justice. The judge called it ‘fitting justice’ for her crime. Jea figured she’d never seen real justice.

_****There are a few spots of 'vagueness' in this chapter. While reading I realized it could be a little confusing, but I didn't feel like it was really taking away from the story, or from the scene itself. But... if anyone feels like anything is too confusing, let me know._


	10. Chapter 10

Jea remembered wanting to be transferred. For the change of circumstances. Stupid.

The circumstances had changed. Instead of a tiny cell she got a giant room. The entire hold of the freighter taking her and innumerable others off world. There was no temperature control of any kind. She was naked and constantly freezing. Bound, blindfolded and bitted. Why the bit? It was incredibly bad. 

Her hands were bound together and relatively free. She could raise her hands to her face or let them drop, even raise them over her head. A metal belt around her waist held her to the wall. It gave some. She could bend her legs, some. Not enough to sit. The blindfold and bit were a one-piece contraption locked onto her head. She couldn’t free it, or even wiggle it loose enough to get relief. It cut into her cheeks, had her hair in a tangle, and kept her mouth open and constantly dry.

It wasn’t the worst of it though. There was no toilet. No freedom to get to one. The humiliation of pissing and shitting on herself was almost more than she could bear, at first. She had little choice but to accept the degradation. 

When the stink of so many soiling themselves became a burning, choking cloud of ammonia they would hose them all down. After the first few times she guessed that the water gushing over her was the same barely-filtered water from the last time. It was freezing and foul. It got in her mouth. There was no way to stop it. She would gag and heave, but deep down she knew she should be trying to drink it, or at least get used to it.

Some of the prisoners tried to communicate. They would bang or tap against the hull, codes and hidden meaning. Some were even proficient at speaking around the bit. Jea didn’t bother to try. Civilization was dead. There was no honor anywhere. Nothing to stand up for, and no one strong enough to do it. She was adrift, alone. There was no such thing as companions, friends, hopes, dreams, none of it. It was all useless. 

She passed time by exercising in the limited space she had, fearing atrophy from confinement like never before. She could lift her legs, putting all her weight on the thick belt around her waist. It hurt, at first, caught against her ribs and biting into her flesh, but she got used to it. It did make the horror of having to piss and shit on herself less humiliating. She could lift her legs, at least avoiding covering herself in the foulness.

Prisons were a business. They turned a profit. If a prisoner had money, while inaccessible to the convict, prisons bid on the chance to house the prisoner. Jea was one of these prisoners. A lawyer present at her sentencing was part of an advocates group. Rights of the Condemned, or some other thing. They made sure there was accountability when handling the funds of the convicted. 

Jea had learned that her liquidated assets and funds were put into a trust fund. Everyone got a chunk, from the judge down to the lowliest security guards. It was also used to secure her a place in the highest bidding prison. It had to be at least a double-max, due to her ‘disregard for authority’. That didn’t necessarily mean it would be the best, or the cushiest, or even decent. 

The winning bidder in her case was one of the universe’s most notorious. Ursa Luna. Jea knew next to nothing about any slams. She knew a few were on unwanted or inhospitable planets or moons. She knew they weren’t friendly environments. Other than hearing a handful of names, Crematoria, Butcher Bay, The Rock, Dante’s Lair, and Ursa Luna, she knew nothing else. 

She knew Ursa meant bear, and Luna meant moon, but that was it, and that wasn’t much to base an opinion on.

Jea had a few things going for her when she was released into the open prison of Ursa Luna. She was a quick learner. She could handle herself, and in most cases defend herself. She had skills. A piece of metal quickly became a weapon in her skilled hands. She knew anatomy. Sure it was animals that she’d dissected again and again, but it was the same principle. She knew what to aim for and what to protect. And the most important thing: she feared nothing. Her whole life had been in preparation to survive in this treacherous atmosphere. The final leg of her journey, beginning when she’d met Riddick in a dark alley, had been the most advantageous to survival in these surroundings. And she did more than survive, she thrived.

After just a few days the attacks stopped. Everyone that had tried to take something from her had died, or disappeared. She didn’t pick fights, but she was quick to defend herself. Her size made the skill of her defense a surprise, and she took down adversaries much larger, and much more experienced.

At first she worried about having such a reputation. It wasn’t something she’d tried to earn. Would others pit themselves against her just to say they’d bested her? 

But then she learned of the benefits. There was always a niche for someone who fought fair. Men and women gravitated towards her, wanting the protection of numbers, believing she was worth something to have in their corner.

Time passed and she was able to prove that she could do more than fashion a superior weapon from a sliver of anything. Her weapons were valuable and coveted. But she could also heal. Nothing fancy, but she saved more than one convict from bleeding to death or infection. 

In just months Jea was at peace in a most feared environment. She never let her guard down. She didn’t become complacent, and was secretly watching for any chance to escape, but she didn’t worry about constant attacks either. It was hard to believe, but Jea was at home in prison.


End file.
